Page 18 of Rules Of Engagement: St. Louis
“I bet. You should be celebrating.”
“I am.”
“When?”
“Now. With you.”
Her deep throaty laugh revved my libido.
“This is a normal Wednesday. Not much of a celebration.”
“All of our Wednesdays are a celebration to me.”
I held her gaze in silence as my words sunk in. A quick smile, then she took a swig of her wine.
“I enjoy our Wednesdays, too. It’s why I keep coming back.”
I laughed. “And I’m a lucky man because of it.”
“So much flattery tonight. It must be the win, hmm.”
“Don’t I flatter you often?”
“Well… with more foreplay than wordplay.”
My lids lowered. “Is that what you want? Foreplay, instead?”
“I want whatever you’re giving me.” She lifted a finger. “But first, the rest of my dinner.”
I chuckled. “You’re safe, for now.”
After dinner, Naomi moved to the cream leather sofa and reached for the remote.
“Your turn to pick,”she said, curling her legs underneath her.
I got comfortable next to her and went with her flow, scrolling through options before settling on a romantic comedy. I just wanted to see her reaction to the ridiculous meet-cute playing out on screen more than the movie itself.
“This is terrible,”she murmured twenty minutes in, but she was smiling, her body gradually relaxing against my side.
“You picked the genre,”I reminded her, sliding my arm across the back of the sofa, immediately feeling her warmth.
“I did not. I said you should pick.”
“And you made a face when I hovered over the action movies.”
Her laugh vibrated against my chest as she settled closer. “That’s not picking for me. That’s reading social cues.”
“Ah. So I’m good at social cues.”
“Don’t let it go to your head.”
I chuckled and her hand slipped on top of mine, our fingers intertwining naturally. We sat like that as the movie played, her fingers gripping as she laughed through comedic moments. It was such a small gesture, but it spearheaded the tingles that raced up my arm to my heart.
Somewhere during the second act, her breathing evened out. Her head fell to the curve of my shoulder, and I could feel thesteady rise and fall of her chest. Her fingers were relaxed, but remained tangled with mine.
I should have woken her and suggested we move to the bedroom or that she head home. That’s what the rules said when we’d agreed to this when we started.
Some rules, however, were meant to be broken. And as such, I stayed perfectly still, watching her sleep. Her lashes cast shadows on her cheekbones, and that perpetual alertness she had had melted away, leaving a softer, vulnerable, authentic her.
